


Someone You Loved

by maplestories



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 03:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18652021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maplestories/pseuds/maplestories
Summary: “Sansa,” he had started that night, huddled together by the fire as they ate. “I know that I will never be able to give you sons, but… I want to marry you, Sansa,” he had said it in a shaky breath, cheeks red. And she had agreed.





	Someone You Loved

**Author's Note:**

> I strongly recommend listening to Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi while you read this.

The battle was won, if you could call it that. Dead bodies littered Winterfell in massive piles of White Walkers, Unsullied and Northerners alike. 

Sansa’s cloak swept over them as she walked, her hands clasped together in front of her as she steadily stared ahead. She wouldn’t crumble today. She couldn’t. Her people needed her. Those that were left were already beginning to clean up and rebuild, bodies were being wheeled out by the barrowful and everyone who was able to was working. Even Arya, who had saved them all and certainly deserved a day in bed, was helping to identify bodies and then carry them out to be buried. Everyone was getting a marked grave, Sansa had demanded it. Even the Dothraki and the Unsullied that had fallen, Sansa would not allow their bodies to be burned or for them to be buried in one massive unmarked grave. She refused.

She saw Brienne from the corner of her eye, lifting a hand to stop her, but Sansa pretended she did not see. She continued to walk, not even sure of herself. She didn’t know where she was going, she was simply following her feet. Eventually they brought her to the Godswood, and she felt her breath catching in the back of her throat as she looked around. As if in a dream, from a lifetime ago, Sansa almost could have sworn she saw a teenage boy run by, laughing as a girl with long red hair chased after him.

There was a fresh blanket of snow over the ground, and the bodies had been cleared. It looked pristine, entirely untouched. Sansa could feel a sob rising now. It was as if a battle had not even occurred here, as if Theon had never died here, as if Arya had never slain the Night King here. She quietly walked over to the great tree, staring up at it for the longest of moments before she finally sat down.

And then, finally, Sansa fell apart. Sobs racked her body as she buried her face into her gloved hands. And she just cried. She cried until her chest ached and she could hardly see because her eyes were so puffy. Theon was gone, and he was not coming back. There were so many things she should have told him, so many things that they still needed to talk about.

“Sansa,” he had started that night, huddled together by the fire as they ate. “I know that I will never be able to give you sons, but… I want to marry you, Sansa,” he had said it in a shaky breath, cheeks red. And she had agreed. Without telling Jon, or Arya, or anyone at all. She had agreed to marry him on the spot, when all of this was all over. He had promised to make her proud, to make up for everything he had done against her family. Proud enough for her to marry him. Theon had already made Sansa so, so, proud, but she had agreed nonetheless.

She reached up, her fingers brushing over her lips. They had shared a very chaste kiss after that, in the corridor and away from prying eyes, before they bid each other farewell. Theon joined Alys and they wheeled Bran to the Godswood, and Sansa had gone to find Arya. That was the last time she had seen him, the last time they had spoke. They had shared a kiss only a day ago, and now he was dead.

Another dry sob left her and she looked down, squeezing her hands together for comfort. It was only then that she noticed Arya at the edge of the Godswood, staring at Sansa until she was noticed before she began to walk over. “The crypts have been cleaned out,” the younger Stark said as she approached. She lingered, before she finally sat down next to her sister.

Sansa glanced over at her and nodded, lifting a hand to briefly dab at one of her eyes. It was no use, however, Sansa could not help the next sob that left her chest, and one of her hands covered her face. She felt one of her sister’s arms wrap around her waist, and the other rested on her shoulder. “Sansa, it’s okay. Our family is okay,” she said earnestly, but Sansa could hear her voice cracking.

“He didn’t know,” Sansa replied, muffled. She dropped her hand, turning to look at Arya. “I never told him. He didn’t know.”

Arya seemed to realize, or perhaps she tried to, and she nodded. “He knew, Sansa. You didn’t have to tell him. He knew,” she whispered. 

Sansa nodded. And they sat there, for what felt like hours but was probably less than one. They sat there until Sansa had stopped crying, and the redness had faded from her face. And only then did Arya stand, one of her hands held out, and only then did Sansa take it. They both walked back to the castle together.

With Yara’s blessing, Theon was buried beside Robb and Rickon. It’s what he would have wanted, she had written.


End file.
